Her laugh was like falling glass, brittle and frail. “If you think that’s weird, I worry if you have the mettle for what awaits you.”

It took me a moment to realize what mettle was, because seriously, it was the twenty-first century and no one really used words like that anymore. “I’m not afraid.”

I couldn’t see those eyes, but I had the distinct impression that I should have been grateful for that. “We’ll see.”

She faced forward, her strides long and quick as she led me under the staircase, stopping in front of one of the doors that Deacon and I had seen. She opened the middle one and walked through.

Hoping I didn’t end up on an Olympian AMBER Alert, I walked through and into a narrow, brightly lit hallway. The librarian stepped around me, walking ahead, and again, the curls of her hair moved. Wiggled?

I shook my head. “By the way, my name is—”

“Josephine Bethel. I know.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “I mean, you know I’m not a virgin anymore, so . . . Anyway, I don’t know your name.” Or how do you walk in those heels with no sound. I didn’t say that last part out loud.

She stopped in front of a . . . wall. I looked around, seeing no doors. Nothing. My gaze flew back to her. Oh geez, I was so going to end up on an Olympian missing person’s report.

“My name? Your father did not tell you?”

I shook my head.

She laughed again, and this time, she smiled. Full red lips parted, revealing fangs.

Holy crap.

Like legit canine fangs, vampire style.

I stepped back, pulse kicking up as I suddenly wished I’d brought the dagger with me. My next thought was that I didn’t need a dagger, because I was a demigod, and I had a whole lot of badass skills. But she had fangs, and they weren’t even like daimon shark teeth. My mind raced through the myths book I’d been reading.

She tilted her head and there was something very, very snake-like about the movement. “You do not know who I am?”

Goosebumps rushed over my skin as I stared at her. The sunglasses. The tight, coiled hair that seemed to move. Fangs. Snake-like movements. My gaze dropped to her feet. How did her heels make no sound? That was potentially the least important clue, but the sunglasses? Could she be . . . ?

No.

No way.

I swallowed hard. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Would you prefer I removed them?” She reached up, hooking a finger around the arm of the sunglasses. “Most would not.”

“No,” I said quickly, lifting my hand. “That’s not necessary.”

A close-lipped grin appeared.